THE KING sat on his lonely throne as his ringed fingers rubbed his aching temple. His teeth clenched against each other tightly, pain stretching throughout his body.
The magic was tiring him, the dark circles beneath his blue eyes becoming more visible with each passing day.
"You!" His voice called, startling the servant who stood at the side, hidden in the shadow.
"Y-yes Sultan?" His voice was shaky, fearful of what the king might ask of him.
"Get me Marzaban. Now."
The servant couldn't properly muster his obedience before rushing out of the grand throne room, his footsteps were quick and short.
Cyrus would be delighted at the sight of someone like him quivering under his stare, but he was in a horrible state. The curse took its toll on him, the crown on his dark locks weighing heavier than before.
When he finally opened his eyes to welcome the sun's light, the servant was walking back with the wizard by his side.
"You called for me, your highness," Marzaban bowed, his hand rested against his chest respectfully.
"Marzaban, come. Best this curse and let me rest."
"My sultan, I worry that three days of rest will not allow a high king like yourself to rule your kingdom to success."
With that, Marzaban had Cyrus' full attention. With the flick of his wrist, the king dismissed everyone in the room, including his guards.
"You propose an antidote, perhaps?"
He hesitated before replying, "Not quite, but something similar. Something that will keep you at rest for years and so on as long as you live."
"State your advances."
"I found a loophole in the curse bestowed upon your line. You must wed, a woman from your lands, and great strength to help carry the heaviness of your pain. With your permission, and only yours, I will craft a crown that will share the power of the ancient one you wear. With that, a bond where your queen will take half of the pain for herself as long as she wears the crown on her head."
Cyrus hummed, taking his right-hand man's words into consideration. Never in his eighteen years did Cyrus think of being wed. The idea of having a queen to rule by his side. Did the sultan of a good build empire want to be wed into a marriage where his wife might not give him the love he needs?
As if Marzaban had been listening to his thoughts, he cleared his throat before speaking. "I know that you may not want a harsh relationship like your parents might have had, but I wish you will take my offer to thought. We all want the best for you, Cyrus."
He stood from his throne and walked down the steps towards the brunette. "I will. I'll leave the task to you to find me a wife who will carry the burden of my family's curse. Craft a crown for her and rings where we both share this bond with. Our crowns will become a burden to our heads during nightfall."
"It's my honor to be the one to create your wedding rings."
Thank you, Marzaban. May you always carry such love for people where they return it in greater amounts."
A wide grin appeared on his face, making the Sultan do the same.
"Thank you, brother."
♔
Days have gone by, and with every woman who wore the crown would perish. Even the girls in the Harem who were greedy for the king's attention were wary of wearing the crown.
Then one day, the king fell to his knees. Instead of the screams of the girls who had a horrible fate, it was the king wailing in pain.
Marzaban has come to his aid that night, hands on his head to relieve his King from pain. For the first time in his years, the king has laid in bed powerless. He was no fool, the curse was bound to kill him, it made him wonder how did his father go through it.
But at last, the good news was delivered. After a night's rest, Sultan Cyrus was escorted to the painting room where paintings by famous artists have drawn portraits for the royal family. He was quick to notice a new canvas with a beautiful golden frame hung beside his.
A girl, of caramel skin and hazel eyes. Long brown hair flowing down, the sultan could not see where'd it stop.
"Noor Al Khan. Daughter of a farmer here in the village. She is well known in the area, a good reputation when asked about her."
"Has the crown been tested on her?"
"Not yet, your highness."
The sultan turned to face his friend. "Then why is her painting on the royal family's hall?"
"While I was aiding your pain, an image flashed."
Marzaban averted his eyes from the painting to his king.
"I believe that she will survive the crown."
Cyrus turned to his guards with a stern look on his face. "Bring her. I want her here before dawn.
"And if anyone dares to stop you from doing so, chop their hands off."